


Little Bird At My Window

by violetsandbirches



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ellaria is a photographer, F/F, F/M, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Music, Neighbors, Oberyn is a lawyer, On-purpose voyeurism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Some mentions of abuse, but it gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetsandbirches/pseuds/violetsandbirches
Summary: When Ellaria moves with Oberyn from Dorne to King's Landing, she discovers a little bird at her window. Little does she know that the bird is a wolf, and is about to turn their lives upside-down...





	1. I Confess I Am Lost

The loft was perfect, and Ellaria gave yet another prayer of thanks to the Goddess that she managed to find such a wonderful place in such a miserable city. Oberyn’s work required him to move to King’s Landing, and while he was still tying up loose ends in Dorne, Ellaria had gone ahead of him to find them an apartment and set up a new studio for herself, photography being an easily portable profession.

The place she settled on in the end was airy and spacious, with massive windows letting in a flood of sunlight, (though she already planned to buy heavy curtains for when she needed more control over lighting). There was an inviting velvet couch set up by the door, plush Lysene rugs woven in dark reds and oranges and copper, and she’d set up several dark wooden screen dividers for when models needed to change and to help distinguish the office from the photography set and the waiting area without compromising on the open flow of the space. 

Ellaria’s favorite part was the balcony off of the far side of the room, facing the gardens of the apartments next door. It would be cool in the mornings and in the evenings she could watch the sunset with a bottle of wine and her lover. What a luxury, what a hidden gem she’d found.

_ Thank you, Loving Goddess, for my good fortune. _

She was sitting on the floor of the balcony, (there was still so much more furniture to buy, and she didn’t mind sitting on the ground before she got around to purchasing a table and chairs for the outside,) when she first heard the voice. 

“I confess, I am lost in the age of the social...”

It was a woman’s voice, singing so beautifully. Ellaria looked up, trying to find where it was coming from. It was too steady to be a pedestrian walking past, and it seemed to be coming from across the courtyard and a little ways upward.

“On our knees, take a test to be loving and grateful…”

She stood up. She simply had to know where the voice was coming from. It was low and rich like honey, but strangely mournful and sweet. Ellaria scanned each window of the building across from hers, but she couldn’t see whoever it was. The second window to the right and three stories up was open, but the woman must have been just far enough inside that she couldn’t be seen.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was a songbird in the gardens below, flying from flower to flower.

Ellaria stood there, listening to the woman sing. What a hidden gem, indeed. A beautiful studio, a balcony overlooking the gardens, and a songbird for a neighbor? She didn’t know what she’d done lately to merit such good fortune but she certainly wasn’t going to question it.

“I’d rather save an angel down…” The song had faded away, and when Ellaria opened her eyes, she finally, (finally!), saw the woman at the window. She was leaning against the window frame like a princess in a fairytale, quite young and tall and slender with a tumble of thick red hair falling down to her waist. 

Ellaria wasn’t sure what she expected. Someone warmer, softer maybe? Perhaps with brown hair or a heart-shaped face? Oh no, her songbird had a cold austerity to her beauty, a sharpness the cut Ellaria straight past her ribs to her heart. No, not a princess in a fairytale, but winter’s queen, strong and graceful and bold. There were a hundred thousand ways she could imagine photographing her, and Ellaria almost wanted to call out to her, ask her who she was and tell her how beautifully she sang when another woman’s voice rang out from further inside the room.

“Sansa! What are you doing by the window, you stupid girl? Come back inside before someone sees you lazing about like an idiot.” The girl startled and flew back inside the apartment to whoever the woman with the harsh voice was.

Ellaria could feel her eyebrows furrowing together in anger at the stranger inside the songbird’s apartment and curiosity as to who the girl was. While she was no stranger to beauty, there was something about her, something about her eyes that seemed almost lost. Who was she, why was she with the mean woman? Why was did she look so sad?

Her phone rang from inside her own studio, and she made her way back to it.  _ Lover _ was glowing on the screen, and she gave a small smile before swiping it open.

“Ellaria, love, please tell me you are having a better day than I am.”

“You’re doing paperwork, Oberyn, of course I’m having a better day than you.”

“Let me rephrase: tell me about your nesting in the new studio so I might glean a bit of joy from your pleasure.” Ellaria smiled. 

“King’s Landing is a shithole of a city, but I managed to find the one loft that is making the move worthwhile. I think I even found a songbird by my window today…”


	2. Be Mine For Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hand slipped and now it's rated M, whoops!

By the time Oberyn had made it into King’s Landing on Wednesday evening, he and Ellaria decided it was just too far and Oberyn too exhausted to go to their new apartment, and chose to spend the night at the studio instead.

“What do you think, my love?”

Oberyn looked around at her creation. It was pure Ellaria; sensual, warm, inviting. The walls had been painted a soft peach and some of her best photographs were framed and hung around the studio, ranging from erotic to dreamy to avant-garde. It even smelled like her, like jasmine and roses. With the photography equipment put away, it was perfect oasis. A piece of Dorne far away from home.

“I love it, as you knew I would. I’m sure the apartment is even better, although maybe it’s better that we didn’t make it there tonight. I’m tired, and I would’ve wanted to christen it with you.”

Ellaria gave a playful  _ tch _ .

“So sorry, lover, but someone beat you to it. The apartment is  _ thoroughly _ christened already.” Oberyn gave gasp of mock betrayal, but she simply shrugged. Oh, she wasn’t sorry at all, the minx!

“Or should I say some ones beat you to it?” 

“Some ones, plural? You wound me, Ellaria!” He made to grab at her waist, but she was nimble and darted away towards the windows. 

This was a favorite game of theirs. Playing at jealousy and possessiveness, when neither of them cared. There were so many beautiful people, and they each had so much love in their hearts. It was no burden to share each other with anyone else who struck their fancy. The only burden would be to limit themselves.

He had her cornered by the balcony, and dropped to one knee like a player on the stage.

“Tell me this at least: was he more handsome than me? Did she moan so prettily when you made her come?”

“Oh, he was taller than you with brown hair and green eyes. She begged me to fuck her a third time and I still have her lovebite on my breast.”

Oberyn hanged his head in shame and put a hand on his heart. Just as he was giving a pitiful fake sniffle, he felt her tilt up his chin so he was looking up at her. Backlit by the last touches of sunset, she looked like her Loving Goddess positively glowing with love.

“But,” she said, “the studio is still up for grabs.”

He smiled and stood up wrapping Ellaria in his arms before she could escape again.

“Then I must reclaim my honor and have you now.”

He placed kiss after kiss against her mouth, her cheeks, behind her ear, and down the column of her neck. She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair.

“I thought you were too tired to go across town to the apartment, now you’re going to fuck me by the windows?”

By now he’d worked the straps of her blouse off her shoulders to reveal dusky nipples and perfect breasts.  _ Huh _ , he thought,  _ she wasn’t kidding about the lovebite after all _ . 

“What can I say,” he said, “you’ve awakened something in me.”

“I’ve awakened something, alright,” Ellaria breathed, palming at him through his pants, already firm and twitching for her.

She wanted to laugh at their silly games, but she moaned instead as he began lavishing her in earnest, sucking a second mark next to the first.. Oh, how she’d missed him.

 

* * *

 

When they were finally spent, Oberyn levered himself off the floor with a small groan. He would never regret sex with his partner, not in seven lifetimes. But sometimes in the aftermath, when they’d been frantic or careless, he was reminded that forty-five was a little too old to be having sex against a hardwood floor.

He walked over to his suitcase and Ellaria passed him, already wrapped up in a silk robe she must have stashed away somewhere in the studio.

“Laria, what are you doing?”

“I’m looking for my songbird. I think her window was open earlier, and I wanted to see if she’s there.”

Ah, the elusive “Sansa”. Ellaria had told him about her so many times that if he were a different man, he’d be quite jealous. As it was, he was quite curious. Ellaria had had her crushes before, but he couldn’t remember the last time she’d pined over someone like this, and she hadn’t even met the girl yet.

“Oberyn, come and listen” she called out softly. He slipped on his lounge pants, stood up and slowly made his way over to where she stood by the curtains on the balcony. Laria’s eyes were closed, but he leaned out far enough to see Sansa sitting by her window as she sang.

“Tell me I’m your baby… And you’ll never leave me… Tell me that you’ll kiss me forever...” 

Her voice was surprisingly lower and huskier than he’d thought it would be, though it was far from an unpleasant surprise. If anything it added a richness, a sweetness to the song. 

What a strange and lovely woman. Her name was Dornish, but her accent was Northern as they came. She was at least as tall as he was, but slender and almost delicate in a sheer blue dress. He had known many women, and admired even more, but he had to agree with Ellaria: there was something about this one, this songbird at her window.

When the song was over he saw her shoulder move with a sigh and she turned to move away, but not before he caught her eye. And what blue eyes they were! So cold that they burned into him. Oberyn gave a lazy wink, and she gasped and closed the window. Ellaria was right, this was a skittish little bird.

Something was buzzing in the back of his head…

“Ellaria!” Her eyes fluttered open and she frowned at him. 

“You said you saw her window open earlier? She must have seen us the whole time!” Ellaria’s face grew sly and sweet, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Even in his irritation, his hands made their way around her waist.

“I never knew you to be against a little exhibitionism?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point. We’re going to scandalize her before she ever meets us!”

Ellaria just laughed at him. When she saw his frown she smiled, and rubbed her nose against his in a wildling kiss.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she whispered. “She still came out to sing for us afterwards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, now we've added Oberyn to the mix! Btw, the "wildling kiss" at the end is just my Westerosi name for an eskimo kiss.
> 
> Some housekeeping: each of the chapters are named after lyrics from a song in said chapter. The first was Angel Down by Lady Gaga, (specifically the worktape version,) and this one is from Tell Me from the movie Lost River.
> 
> As before, lemme know what you think ;)


	3. My Cage Has Many Rooms

The golden couple was on their balcony again.

Sansa had first seen the woman about a month ago, and the man had followed not long after. Sometimes they came out to have wine and look over the gardens. It was just warming into spring and the jonquils were in bloom.

They looked so perfect. She saw the woman more often, the loft seemed to belong to her. Every few days she would have people over and take their photographs, and she would sway her wide hips as she walked over to adjust this light or move a model’s arm just so. Her plush mouth always looked like it was hiding a smile or a secret.

The man was just as gorgeous, too. He had curly black hair and a soft-looking moustache and beard. His nose was hooked and reminded her of the profiles of ancient princes on old coins. Usually he came to the loft wearing a handsome suit, but by the time they left he would be in shirtsleeves, the collar unbuttoned scandalously low and showing off the lean muscles of his chest and a smattering of hair.

Everything about them was scandalous, really. The way she photographed models, sometimes placing them in such erotic poses. His lounging about half-naked like a snake warming itself in the sun. And more than anything else, their  _ very _ active love life, frequently on display regardless of who might see them through the massive windows.

Once the man had winked at Sansa, after they were done with their lovemaking. She’d seen glimpses of it, and looked away with her cheeks burning red. But she didn’t close her window, and she heard it all. Each breathy moan, the woman’s gasps and his filthy whispers floating up to her. Sansa was ashamed and aroused and so very jealous. Two perfect people and their perfect love story. More than jealous, she was sad. 

What a turn her life had taken. Everything had looked so golden and now she was a cautionary tale.

The Lannisters were very strict. After the… events of two years ago, she was never allowed to leave the apartment on her own. They bought her clothes for her, (always high quality but plainer and behind the current fashions,) they fed her, (not the same decadent meals they ate, always a bit bland in flavor,) they even gave her books, (never the kinds she liked to read, it was non-fiction and dry). They employed such a queer, controlling kind of luxury on her life. Sansa couldn’t complain of being underfed or under-clothed or under-cared for, but she never had any choice in the matter and none of it was to her tastes. She never received anything that might actually stimulate her mind or make her happy, and as such was left in a haze of boredom punctuated by Cersei’s barbs and Joffery’s visits home every weekend.

Sometimes Tyrion would sneak her CDs or books, but the family was no kinder to him than they were to her and so he didn’t come by very often. The only thing she really had left anymore was singing. Cersei hated to hear her singing, calling it tuneless on her best days and wailing on her cruelest. But Sansa had discovered some quirk in the architecture, and if she sang out the first-story window in the penthouse, Cersei couldn’t hear her at all. The wind swallowed all the noise. It wasn’t much, but it was  _ something _ she could take back from her old life. She couldn’t take back her freedom or her choices, not her friends or her family, but she could have this much and she was keeping it.

There was a tune in her head from the musical they’d taken her to when she first arrived. Everything was so glamorous when she’d first come here and it was so exciting to go to the theater, her very first musical! Sansa was enraptured by it all: the lights, the costumes, the live orchestra and the gorgeous score. Even Joffrey’s complaining couldn’t spoil it for her, (although nothing he did in the beginning was difficult for her to bear. It was  _ after _ everything had happened that she finally saw his true colors.)

That song just would not leave her head.

“Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird…” When she’d first heard it, she had felt so sorry for the character, locked up in a fancy house and forced into a marriage with a man she hated. The irony wasn’t lost on her now.

“If I cannot fly, let me sing…” The song was over. In the musical, Joanna would see her sailor boy down on the street, and the story would continue with gruesome ends for everyone except those two lovers. But Sansa wasn’t in a musical, and there was no one to take her away from her own miseries...

The sound of clapping made her jump. She looked around for its source and saw that it was coming from the opposite building, the second window to the left and three stories down. It was the golden woman!

“Bravo,” she called out. “I’m so sorry to startle you! It’s just that’s the first song I’ve recognized. You always sing so beautifully, but I never know what songs you’re singing!”

Sansa was frozen in place, but fell back on her courtesies.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The other woman snorted out a laugh. “Oh, please don’t call me that. Makes me feel old and withered. My name is Ellaria.”

Ellaria! The woman had a name! It sounded so beautiful and exotic, like it was made just for her. The woman, (Ellaria!), stared back up at her, and Sansa shook her head.

“I’m Sansa,” she called back down. Ellaria gave her a smile, playful and secretive. Sansa could feel her cheeks flushing and bit her lip.

“I’ve just put the kettle on,” Ellaria said. “Would you like to some over and join me for some tea?”

Sansa worried her lip between her teeth some more. One half of the golden couple actually wanted to talk to her! Ellaria seemed kind and warm. And while she’d learned not to trust appearances a long time ago, she’d spent enough time shamefully spying on two of them when they weren’t looking to really be afraid of them. It was the Lannisters she had to worry about.

But Cersei was out today. She had a standing appointment every Tuesday to have her nails done and her hair styled, as well as a facial and a massage. She wouldn’t be back for hours, and while Sansa had no key of her own she knew where Cersei kept the spare. Surely she could risk it? Just long enough for a cup of tea?

Sansa briefly closed her eyes. Could she be brave, like her parents, like Arya always was? She could feel her heart thrumming in her chest with nerves, but more than that. She was excited. For the first time in gods knew how long, she might actually get to talk to someone new, eat something other than what the Lannisters bought for her, leave the apartment and get some fresh air.

“Yes.” The word was out of her mouth before she even realized she said it. “I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I wonder what'll happen next!
> 
> This week's episode features "Green Finch and Linnet Bird" from Sweeny Todd. Feel free to give comments or feedback :)


	4. Gone to a Different Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA HA HA, HA HA HA, I don't understand the concept of consistently-sized chapters.

Sansa could feel her pulse buzzing through her body as she walked to the building next door. The city was so much louder, so much brighter than she remembered. It had a stink to it, like the sweet smell of rotting fruit, and every car drove like it was the only one on the road. It was hardly surprising, though, that she forgot what it was like outside of the apartment. Two years indoors, apart from a handful of appearances with the Lannisters, was likely to make anyone forget just how much  _ life _ there was in the city.

She walked into the building and made her way into one of the elevators. (“Suite 906”, Ellaria had called out to her, “come on up!”) She pressed the button for the ninth floor, and waited. Oh gods, this was a terrible idea. She was risking everything, ( _ again _ ), but instead of risking it all on something worthwhile, she was putting her neck on the line for what– a cup of tea with a pretty stranger? A new friend? Gods knew she could use an actual friend in this city, but Sansa was unsure if she even knew how to make friends anymore. Maybe the knowledge had trickled out of her stupid little head, along with her memories of the streets of King’s Landing.

_ And even if I did make a friend _ , some traitorous voice in her head said,  _ who’s to say it would make a difference? No one can save me, no one ever will. _

The elevator dinged, and Sansa blinked and waffled inside the doors.  _ What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing? _ The doors started to slide shut, and her arm bolted out to stop from them from closing.

“I are doing this,” she whispered. “I am doing this and no one will stop me, let alone myself.” With that, she stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall. She would be brave like her family, she wouldn’t let the Lannisters take any more from her than they already had. Even if it all came to nothing, even if Ellaria changed her mind, even though her nerves were threatening to paralyze her–– she felt so, so alive. Yes, that was it; it was easy to mistake it for just more anxiety, but beneath the danger and her own neuroses, there was an excitement that had been missing from her life. It was as if she was awake after years of being in a coma. The thrill, the chance to experience something lovely and new was worth it.

She stopped in front of the door and knocked. The door opened almost right away, as if Ellaria had been waiting just for her.

“Sansa, come in, come in,” she cried, grabbing her hands and giving them a firm squeeze. Sansa took a deep breath and smiled, letting herself be lead into the loft.

It was one thing to peer at the loft from afar and through a window; it was entirely different to be inside it. The whole place was like something from a fairytale, and everywhere Sansa looked there was some new thing that caught her eye. Up close, she could see the walls were painted a color like a soft blush and there was a small altar set up by the desk for some unfamiliar deity. It even smelled different, like a faraway place Sansa had never been to. It almost smelled like a dream.

Sansa realized that she was ogling, and turned to apologize but Ellaria was just grinning ear to ear.

“You like it,” she asked.

“I love it,” Sansa breathed. “I don’t see how anyone couldn’t.” Ellaria managed to smile even wider before pulling Sansa over to the couch.

“Here, you sit while I finish setting up the tea.” And like that, Sansa was settled on the velvet couch while Ellaria fiddled with the kettle on the far side of the room. She didn’t mind; there was still so much to see.

The rugs were so plush and intricately woven. There was some sort of pattern in the one by her feet, like winding copper ropes. Sansa tried to follow one of the knotted lines with her eyes, but one of them was stopped by a set of shoes lying next to the couch.

That was the biggest difference between the studio and the Lannister’s apartment, she decided. More than just the decor, there were actual signs of life here. The cleaning service kept the penthouse almost sanitized, but there were little bits of clutter here. Not enough to be truly messy, but it felt like someone actually lived here. There were two other pairs of shoes by the door, a coat was lying carelessly over the desk chair, the blanket on the couch was strewn across the back, unfolded. There was even a man’s hat on the table for some reason. A man’s hat? The other half of the golden couple. Sansa called out to Ellaria.

“I thought your,” (husband, boyfriend, sexy sexy lover?), “friend was here, too?” Ellaria smiled even wider.

“Oberyn? Oh he was, but he got called away for a work emergency before you even started your song. He’ll be so jealous when I tell him you came over for tea; he’s been wanting to meet you for almost as long as I have.”

Ellaria looked playful and triumphant, but there was almost too much for Sansa to process. They’d  _ wanted  _ to meet her? How long had they wanted to? Did they know about her watching them? How much had they been watching her?

“Are you disappointed that he’s not here,” Ellaria asked. Yes. No. Maybe? She wanted to meet the other half of the balcony couple, but maybe it was better that she only meet them one at a time; it was already nerve-wracking to escape the apartment and Sansa wasn’t sure if she could handle  _ two _ beautiful people with all their attention on her.

“I’d like to meet him,” Sansa said, having settled on her answer, “but it’s easier to get to know people when you meet them one at a time.” 

“Well said,” Ellaria replied. She’d finished setting up their teacups, and brought the tray laden with honey and slices of lemon over to the couch where Sansa sat. She shoved Oberyn’s hat to the side and set down the tray, pushing one of the cups closer to Sansa. The tea was so fragrant and sweet. It was some kind of black tea, but it smelled spicy like cinnamon or cloves and a little floral like rosehips.

Sansa picked up her cup, a sturdy piece of stoneware with green dragonflies, and took a small sip and before making a face. It smelled much better than it tasted. Ellaria laughed at how her nose scrunched up. (And what a pretty laugh it was, bubbly and light! Sansa had heard it before while standing at her window, but there was something about listening to it right next to her; there was something about being its cause.)

“It’s bitter, isn’t it?” Sansa nodded. “Don’t worry, nobody drinks it straight. Let me show you.” And Ellaria scooted closer to Sansa with her own cup of tea, so close that she could feel the warm length of her thigh pressed against her own. Sansa could feel the red rushing into her cheeks, tinting her ears with pink. She wished, not for the first time, that she wasn’t so pale. She was practically translucent and it was just too easy to see her every blush, her every freckle, her every bruise.

“The lemon is to cut through the bitterness,” Ellaria said. She picked up one of the slices, and this time Sansa watched to see how to fix her tea. She wrung the slice out over her cup and put the rest in before picking up another slice and handing it to her. Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she had lemon in her tea, and it made her smile to squeeze into her cup and drop the crushed slice in after. Then Ellaria picked up the honey jar and took out the wand, dipping it into her own mug and swirling around the piece of lemon.

“And the honey is for sweetness, of course. Oberyn drinks his just with lemon, but I find that a little sweetness goes a long way, don’t you?” Sansa couldn’t think of a response, her mind fizzy with the way that Ellaria’s hand brushed her when she gave her the honey wand. She tried to smile and hoped it wasn’t too dopey as she put honey in her own tea.

She took another sip, and this time it was so different. The lemon made it brighter and the honey made it smooth. She could drink  _ this  _ for the rest of her life.

“I hope you don’t mind that we’re indoors,” Ellaria said. “Normally I’d have my tea on the balcony, but it’s just too windy out today. I can never tell what the weather will be like, it changes its mind on me.”

“I’m from the far North, so this isn’t really that cold to me. But your loft is so beautiful that I can’t complain about being inside.”

“Thank you, it means a lot to me that you like it. You’re really from the far North?” Sansa nodded. “Ah, see I’ve never been further north than King’s Landing. I’m a Dornishwoman, through and through.” Sansa gave a small laugh before she could help herself. Ellaria stuck out her tongue at Sansa, and she felt herself laugh again.

“Well, I’ve never been further south than King’s Landing. What’s Dorne like,” she asked. Ellaria looked down, almost shy for the first time Sansa had ever seen her.

“Dorne is... Dorne is home. Oberyn had to come here for work, and I wouldn’t stay behind for years on end, so I came along with him. But I miss it, everyday.” Sansa looked down, too. She wanted to tell her that she understood, tell her that she knew what it was like to be a stranger in this city, but she wasn’t sure if she knew how. And anyway, Ellaria’s exile was self-imposed, whereas Sansa had no choice in the matter. Or if she had, she made it long ago before she knew any better.

“But,” Ellaria said, and Sansa looked up from beneath up lashes, “I have Oberyn, and my family. And I can make my own piece of home here, so long as they are with me. And you know, sometimes when the sunshine comes through those windows just right, it reminds me the southern sun. So you see, I’m still quite happy” she said, turning to Sansa. Suddenly her face lit up.

“Oh, this  _ is _ perfect lighting! May I take your picture?” Sansa sat up and the tea would have splashed out of her cup, if there had been any left. As it was, the lemon made small jump before plopping back down.

“My picture?”

“Yes, your picture. I’m a professional photographer, I promise. It’s just that you make such a pretty image right now, it would be a shame to lose it forever.” When Sansa didn’t reply, she continued. “We don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable, really––”

“No,” Sansa said. “It’s not that…”

If only Ellaria knew that she’d stumbled onto a secret fantasy of hers. Just a few weeks ago, there’d been a photoshoot in the loft, and when Sansa peered through the window she saw a woman with red hair, just like hers, draped over a chaise longue and wearing a sheer dress that showed much more than it concealed. Ellaria had barely touched the model, just on her elbows or her chin to correct her pose, but the sight still branded itself in her head and followed her to her bed that night. How many times had she watched her work through her window, and how many times had she imagined that she was that model, or any model really––so long as she could lay there and be made beautiful and perfect under Ellaria’s eye? It was just that…

“You won’t share it with anyone else, will you?” Ellaria didn’t answer right away, but nodded thoughtfully.

“I would like to show Oberyn, but I can keep it to myself just as easily. Or else I could take a few frames and show you before deleting them altogether, and we can keep it as our own secret.” And then Ellaria gave her a sultry wink that sent a frisson of some unnamable white-hot thing down Sansa’s spine.

“What if… what if you take the pictures and if I see any I like, you can keep them and show Oberyn? And then we can delete the rest?” The idea of Oberyn seeing her in this seemingly Dornish light, of Ellaria looking at the photos later and remembering this afternoon was irresistible. But the Lannisters had men in the strangest of places, and the thought of Ellaria sharing evidence of Sansa’s adventure outside wasn’t worth any fantasty.

Luckily enough, though, Ellaria smiled and agreed to Sansa’s suggestion. “I’ll do my very best work to convince you, or else we’ll delete every last one of them and Oberyn will be twice as cross with me.” She didn’t seem wholly concerned about Oberyn’s potential vexation as much as the opportunity to play with her new friend, and hurried over to the armoire by her desk.

She opened it, and Sansa felt her mouth drop open. It was filled with camera bodies and lenses, tripods and lights. To a girl who’d grown up with family albums taken on disposable Kodaks, it was mind-boggling to think anyone would possess that many.

After a minute, Ellaria came back to the couch and set her selection on one of the cushions, a compact but heavy thing with a thick red strap attached to it. Ellaria dragged the coffee table out of the way, shooing Sansa when she tried to help, before picking up the camera and standing back and out of the way to avoid casting a shadow.

When Ellaria was done fiddling with the settings, she looked over the viewfinder at Sansa and gave a small smile and a nod. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said.

“Oh. Should I pose, or…?” Ellaria shrugged.

“Whatever you feel most comfortable with,” she replied, and Sansa felt her nerves come back in full force. She tried to sit up, spine straight as a spear like she was taught as a girl, and put her hands on her lap, ankles crossed. Ellaria’s face was hidden behind the camera, and there was no sound except the  _ click-whirr _ ,  _ click-whirr _ of the shutter action.

Her cheeks were flushing painfully red again.

“Stop, I––” Ellaria lowered the camera and stepped forward, one arm already reaching out to soothe.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to...”

“No, it’s just,” Sansa said, “I must look so stupid, sitting here like this. Even you couldn’t make me look good, I’m sure of it.” She was looking down at her hands when she felt Ellaria gently push beneath her chin until her face was tilted up at hers.

“Sansa. You still look absolutely beautiful. A little stiff, yes, but most people are stiff when they pose.” 

“You think I’m beautiful?” The words fell out of her mouth, soft and small.

“Yes, even when you’re nervous.” Sansa wanted to argue, but bit her lip. Ladies didn’t argue. Ellaria pursed her mouth, her hand still resting against Sansa’s jaw.

“How about this: you always look very natural when you sing. Try singing instead of posing. You focus on the music while I focus on the pictures.” Her eyebrows were raised like it was a request and not a command. And it really  _ was _ a request, Sansa realized. She was so used to people expecting blanket obedience that she felt a wave of affection for Ellaria. If she was going to exercise some bravery in coming over here, she might as well be brave and let Ellaria photograph her. In for a garnet, in for a ruby. Besides, singing at least was something she was well familiar with.

“Any song requests,” she asked. Oh, even if the pictures were still terrible, it was worth it to see the look of happiness on Ellaria’s face.

“There was one you sang the other day, I don’t know the title. It went something like, ‘she went out and got lost in a tall hedge maze’?”

“Where’d you go, where’d you go, why’d you leave this place,” Sansa sang. Ellaria laughed and nodded. Sansa smiled back, and settled back into the couch cushions, but kept her good posture; she didn’t get as much air when she slouched.

“Wake up to the sound of your fleeting heart,” she started. 

She remembered the day she’d last sang this one. The air had been pale gray with rain, she was homesick and heartsick, and she’d been about to leave her perch by the open window when she’d seen the golden couple walk into their studio. Oberyn had boquet of sunflowers in his hand, and she’d been struck with such a longing to ask him if they knew they were her favorites; when she’d sung this song last, it was the first time she was really singing for them. And now she was here, singing for Ellaria.

Ellaria sat down next to her on the couch, and Sansa realized that she’d finished her song. How long had it been since she’d lost herself in a song like that?

“Thank you! Your singing is so gorgeous that I almost wish I’d asked for more, but we still have to look through these pictures; I didn’t forget our deal, you know.” Sansa scooted over so Ellaria would have some more room, but Ellaria just scooted back closer. They huddled over the little preview screen on the camera, thigh to thigh and arm to arm.

The first few were before she was singing when she’d just been posing on the couch, and it  _ showed _ . But then the next few were a little more relaxed, and then she was beautiful. The light really was perfect, it turned her hair into marmalade and copper and her eyes into ice and sapphires. She’d never been in doubt of her own looks before, but the camera had turned her into something more, something otherworldly. For a moment she remembered when she was a little girl and still believed in magic. Maybe there really was some in the world after all.

“That one,” she said, and Ellaria zoomed in on the selected picture. She was looking right into the camera lens and her mouth was open, of course, but almost smiling. She looked comfortable and warm and happy. That was the version of her that she wanted captured for eternity.

“It’s perfect,” Ellaria agreed, and she gave Sansa’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before selecting a different picture.

“Wait,” she said, “what are you doing. I chose a different one.” Ellaria smiled and nodded.

“I know. I’m deleting the others, like we agreed.”

“We did agree, but why are you deleting them now?” 

Ellaria’s face did something that Sansa couldn’t quite understand. It was tender and sad, and Sansa had no idea why.

“So you can see that I’m keeping my promise. How else would you know that they were gone otherwise?” Oh. 

Sansa could fall half in love with her if she wasn’t too careful. And suddenly she was on guard again. Ellaria was kind, and honest, and warm, and so so beautiful. But falling in love was a dangerous sport in Sansa’s experience, a sport no one ever taught her the rules to and she always lost. Joffrey, Loras, Margaery… she didn’t want Ellaria to be another name on her list of failed crushes. And besides: she was half of a pair. She and Oberyn were both so smitten with each other, Ellaria would never look at her twice.

Sansa checked her watch. It had been a present for her sixteenth nameday and it matched her mother’s watch, a slim leather band with a small round face. Every time she looked at it she thought of her mother, how she’d noticed that Sansa had coveted her own watch for years without ever saying a word. The time was 3:45. Cersei wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half  _ at least _ , but Sansa wasn’t going to push her luck any further than she already had that day.

“I should be heading back.” Ellaria tutted and frowned, but led Sansa to the door all the same.

“You should come back again tomorrow, or some other day. You could meet Oberyn and we could all have lunch.”

“I’d like that,” Sansa said. “I’ll let you know when I have a free day again.” Ellaria smiled, and pulled her in for a hug before Sansa realized what she was doing.  _ She smells like jasmine _ , she thought, and hugged her back. They let go, and then she was gone.

* * *

The walk back to the Lannister’s apartment was lost in a daze. Even the exhaust fumes and the car horns and the pedestrians shoving past couldn’t faze her. She’d gone out, she’d actually gone out! She felt high, like maybe it wasn’t real, but it was and she couldn’t stop grinning. All the way up to the penthouse she couldn’t stop herself from singing again.

“Live like your love wasn’t meant for mine… now you’ve gone, now you’ve gone to a different life…” The elevator dinged open and she hopped out, practically skipping down the hall.

“So we’ll hate what we’ve lost but we’ll love what we find…” She unlocked the door and stepped in, still singing the rest of the chorus when she heard it.

“Sansa,” someone was calling out to her.

Oh no. Oh gods no. She was stupid, such a stupid little girl who never learns. Cersei wouldn’t be back until 5:30 or 6, but Myrcella came home from school at 3:30.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this thing was a bear to write out, and this is after I lopped off the Myrcella/Sansa interaction. (Which means that it ends on a cliffhanger, but y'all get to read it before Christmas this way–– deal? Deal.) Ellaria finally got to flirt up a storm, and Sansa CANNOT stop blushing you guys, it's a #gingerproblem ALSO, today's episode is brought to you by Featherstone by The Paper Kites.
> 
> Lemme know what you think, if it was too long or maybe even too short :)


	5. This Sinking Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW, IT'S BEEN A MINUTE. More at the end, but we're finally back in the game!

Myrcella walked down the stairs, her blonde curls bouncing with every step. Maybe she didn’t hear the door close? Maybe she’d only heard the tail end of the song and wondered why she hadn’t heard more?

Sansa looked at the apartment with new eyes, as if being at Ellaria’s had reset her. It was full of such a dreadful kind of luxury; the sleek modern lines, the clinical, almost sterile atmosphere to the rooms, the gold accents  _ everywhere _ . Everywhere she looked it was either shiny or sharp. She had been inured to it for so long, that she forgot how much she felt like one of Myrcella’s dolls in its case in here. Like a pretty thing on display, removed from anything alive. But there wasn’t time for adjusting to her cage again, she had a bigger problem at hand.

Myrcella was a far cry from Cersei, despite being her spitting image, and Sansa knew that Myr wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. But she’d also been a young girl once, sweet and naïve, and she knew just how easy it was to hurt people even if you never meant to.

She was finally at the bottom of the stairs and Sansa gave a weak smile.

“I heard singing, but you weren’t in your room or by the window.” She could work with that. She could say that she wanted to sing out in the living room for a change, she wasn’t even wearing an outdoor jacket to give her away, (thank the gods for her Northern blood), just please let her get away with this one thing...

But then––her green eyes fell on the key still visible in Sansa’s hand and suddenly her eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs.

“You were out? Outside?” Oh gods, she couldn’t lie. Myrcella wasn’t an idiot, there was no backing out of this now. 

“I… I just wanted some fresh air…” She couldn’t tell her about Ellaria, she wouldn’t risk it. She wouldn’t risk that the Lannisters could find her, do _ something _ to her, and to Oberyn, and to Ellaria’s family. She’d learned the hard way to never confess to anyone’s involvement but her own.

“You wanted some fresh air? But you’re always sitting by the window, you’re always getting fresh air.” For a single moment Sansa forgot about the danger she was in and rolled her eyes.

“I’m cooped up in this place everyday, it’s not the same, Myr. I just wanted to stretch my legs, have a change in scenery.” And it was true, wasn’t it? 

What was it Mr. Baelish had told her, during some party? He’d found her hiding in the corner, and struck up a conversation, as if they were allies against the world, as if he wasn’t just as bad as the rest of them.  _ Every great lie starts with a grain of truth. _ She’d work with the truth, and Myr would believe it, and she’d be none the wiser about Ellaria.

“I didn’t go very far–not even a block. I didn’t talk to any strangers, I didn’t even go anywhere where people could recognize me, I didn’t tell anyone anything. I swear.”

Myrcella stood there, silent and biting her lips. Thinking.

“Myrcella, please––”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mama.”  _ Thank the the Gods _ .

“Thank you,” Sansa breathed. She unclenched her hands to discover that her nails had made pale, curved indents in her palms from squeezing too tight. Oh, she could kiss Myr right now.

Myrcella smiled and shrugged. “I don’t think it’s worth it, it’d just get you in trouble again. And you didn’t do anything really bad. Besides, it’s not like you’d actually leave anyway.” 

It wasn’t like she  _ could _ leave. Not after the last time. Myrcella didn’t say as much, but she didn’t have to: the words hung there between them all the same. And like that, Sansa’s relief turned to ashes.

Sansa nodded and gave a quick smile before turning around and heading upstairs to put the spare key back, and hide away her room.  _ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry _ . Some days it seemed like those were the only words left in her stupid little head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, it's been a few months. Much like the last chapter, this one was supposed to be much longer, but I couldn't finagle the transition/flow of all of it together, so it's getting broken up into this little morsel. The next chapter should be coming much sooner than this one did, I swear. (Mostly, anyway).
> 
> And of course once again, the title for this chapter came from a song; specifically Where We Gonna Leave It by The Petrojvic Blasting company. Even though Sansa doesn't sing in this chapter, I tried to give a nod to another of the lyrics towards the end.
> 
> Please enjoy, and bless everyone for their patience!

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally time to take the plunge from reading all the lovely Oberyn/Sansa/Ellaria fiction, and start contributing to this golden age of fanfiction we are living in. Here's to hoping I actually write more than just the first chapter!
> 
> Lemme know what y'all think :)


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